


My Crew

by Unimpairable



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Fake AH Crew, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, One Shot Collection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-20
Updated: 2016-04-04
Packaged: 2018-04-27 08:29:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5041258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unimpairable/pseuds/Unimpairable
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A will be series of One shots based on random ideas/prompts thrown at me revolving around the Fake AH Crew. If one becomes too good to be true, I may move it into a series instead. All works will be done in my spare time and randomly added. 500 words or more per work. More tags/pairings added as time goes on. Mature rating for general all purpose rating. Anything truly explicit will be moved to a different collection.</p>
<p>Suggest an idea/prompt at http://unimpairablediscord.tumblr.com/</p>
<p>Other than that, enjoy my random spurts of inspiration.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Raywood, Sniper Accidents

**Author's Note:**

> First up; 
> 
> Ray accidentally injures one of his crew during a raid on a local "business".

"Go, go, go! Go now!" Came the screaming voice over the ear pieces as chaos erupted below him. From unaided eyes, Ray could see it. Three bodies racing into the flames that scorched the ground and the smoke billowing from the top. Michael's voice, he knew that all too well, and the command that he shouted whenever an explosion went off. Michael was the distraction, their catalyst. When shit needed to go down, he was the forefront to start it all. Ray however, was their cover. 

That pink sniper rifle sat calm in his grasp, stomach laying down on the gritty rooftop and barely his head visible over the top railing. He was their airstrike without a vehicle, hands steadier than anything else they had to offer. He saw movement from the wrong side and it was like time had slowed down. He would get his vision adjusted in that scope faster than the person had time to take another breath. Movements quick, he had the red dot positioned just on their right temple. A low deep breath and he pulled back on that trigger. A smile crossing over his lips as he felt the kick and saw the explosion of blood grace his vision. The body hit the ground with a soft thud and it could almost be said that a purr rose from his throat. Beautiful. Every shot he took was perfection. 

"Nice." Came the next voice to speak into his ear, the Hispanic swelling more with pride and he moved to aim his next shot, taking out anyone who dared touch his boys.  
When he lined up his scope this time however, his target was emerging from a few boxes of cover. Tall, beefy but not overdone. Muscles hidden underneath a leather jacket and long dirty blonde hair pulled back into a tight ponytail. His skin color cream, a barely shaven gruff lining his chin and just under his nose. Lips curled into a playful, dangerous smile and fingers tightening on a sticky bomb about to be thrown into the fray. Ray felt his chest tighten, for a moment frozen in time. He couldn't help but notice...even from this distance, he could tell the man's eyes were blue. A bright beautiful blue. All of that was pooling together in the forefront of his mind. This man was attractive, he had a crush on the guy he was about to shoot and it made him hesitate. He couldn't pull the trigger...

At least for the first moment, watching in horror as that bomb went sailing outward and he bit his lower lip hard, drawing blood as he cussed audibly and just in an effort to take the man down but not kill him, he aimed lower, to the thigh. Not where he would bleed out but instead where he would just be temporarily incapacitated. He fired, watching the man drop down to the ground but instead of just giving in to the pain, he was reaching for a pistol. No good, Ray couldn't have that. He had to do something...and he aimed higher again, this time firing for the man's ear. He hit his target without fail and the wound left the man crying out and writing on the ground. Two wounds, he wasn't going to recover for a while after that. 

Ray sighed, a little more in relief, knowing he had protected the ones he had cared about the most. He could relax for a moment, seeing no other threats. No doubt, all of them had been silenced by Michael's well placed explosions. He felt content. Some would question his life choices but this kid was more than willing to do dirty work just to save those who held him at night's lives. He smiled again, deep calming breaths. 

Only interrupted by the haunting voice that screamed over his ear piece next. 

"RAY, Ray there was a sniper on Ryan! Take out anyone on the rooftops! He's been shot twice! We need cover in order to get him out!" 

Dark eyes widened in horror, peering through the scope another time to watch four other bodies race over to the fallen man. The man he had just shot. A wave of cold washed over him and he felt tears beginning to form. They didn't have to worry about a sniper on the roofs. He was the one who had injured Ryan. 

"...I got him." He called over, voice shaking as he spoke. They'd probably chalk it up to the fear that his comrade had been killed, never question why it sounded like he was about to break down into sobs. He knew he didn't really injure Ryan that badly considering and there was no evidence that it was actually him. With how terrible the shots had been, they'd automatically assume an amateur was the culprit. Only he knew the truth. 

Only he knew the reality as they came to retrieve him off the roof and pull him into the awaiting stolen police helicopter. Only he knew why staring at the sloppily bandaged Vagabond on the floor was making him hyperventilate. He didn't protest when Michael asked him if he was scared for Ryan, didn't make a comment about it being gay when the demolition expert pulled him close in his arms and held him as he sobbed. Didn't argue one bit when they told him it was okay to miss a target occasionally. He wasn't perfect, they knew that. They told him Ryan wouldn't blame him when he was better and that only made him cry more. 

 

"Good news, we saved your ear!" 

"You'll have to excuse me for not jumping for joy." The man huffed as his arms crossed over his chest and his head tilted, ignoring the painful shift of skin from his neck to his bandaged ear. Ryan was not in a very good mood and it was easy to see why. Anyone would be furious after getting put out of commission by some unknown. 

Michael had suggested numerous times that they go retrieve the body from the rooftops of the mysterious sniper and offer it to Ryan as a get well soon gift. Ray was the only one arguing against it, with occasional protests from Jack about the carpeting they'd need to clean. No instead they brought random things to the stone cold killer. Filled his recovery room with various stuffed animals, plants, balloons, and the occasional bottle of alcohol donated from Geoff. It was comical from a distance. How this man known for skinning people alive for fun (though that could be a rumor), was surrounded by bright pastels and smiley faces. 

It could noted that he looked paler, which was mostly due to the blood-loss but perhaps also that he hadn't had the time nor reason to put on his face paint again. Days spent normally interrogating or forgeing new means to attack were now cooped up in a sterile white bedroom in their medical wing of their hideout, nose in a book that clearly didn't capture his interest. Everyone had visited him at least once...save for one person. 

Geoff and Jack were growing concerned over the distance Ray had made between him and Ryan. The kid wouldn't even say his name anymore, walking out when the subject was brought up or spending all group visits with the man on top of the hideout's roof. It was borderline suspicious but the other two lads would argue on his defense. Say about how though they didn't act like it, Ray and Ryan were really close and the shock of the attack had just gotten to Ray. Comments made to him in passing about how they weren't immortal and he'd just realized his weaknesses but would learn to live on beyond them. 

It wasn't until today that they had announced that Ryan's ear was almost fully healed and he could take the bandages off soon for that. His leg was still pretty damaged however and required a few more weeks of recovery. This made Ray smile for the first time in a while and though he was content to head back up to his spot on the roof, Michael was the one who shoved him to the direction of Vagabond's room. A squeak of protest and he glared back at the man, blushing even at having been so easily toppled forward. Before he could speak however, his friend was motioning to get in there or he'd kick his ass. 

Which wound up with him sitting awkwardly in a chair across the room from Ryan, hands wringing at the fabric of his loose jeans and occasionally tugging at the tie on his hoodie. He didn't make a noise aside from uncomfortable grunts and whines that made him sound like a little puppy wanting to go outside. The man in the bed mostly ignored him, flipping through the pages of the third Harry Potter book rarely, eyes scanning the page. The silence was getting to Ray however, his brain twisting this awkward moment into a form of torture. Ryan knew how to make people anxious and that was part of the reason he was such a great interrogator. He didn't even need to speak before the Hispanic was bolting out of the chair and wrenching off his beanie in frustration.

"AUGH! I'm sorry okay?! I didn't recognize you at all! I thought you were some random guy! I had never seen you without your face paint before! I didn't even think, I saw the sticky bomb go and I saw that smile of your's-I thought...I thought....I...I DIDN'T MEAN TO SHOOT YOU! I JUST WANTED TO PROTECT EVERYONE ELSE!" Hands went through the dark mop of his hair as he screamed out the words, tears bursting from his eyes and he dropped down to his knees. This was pain, pain he had been holding in for weeks simply because he couldn't tell anyone. "I'm so sorry Ryan..." 

Through his sobbing though, something new caught his ears and he blinked up at the sound, pulling off his glasses to clean them when they had already fogged up. There was no denying it, it was laughter. Soft chuckling and through the fog of his bad vision, he could see the Vagabond's form shaking. As he pulled the glasses back on, sure enough, he was right. Ryan was laughing. Delving in deep rich laughter that almost warmed Ray's heart despite all that was happening. He couldn't help the soft smile on that formed on his own lips, nervously laughing along with the man. 

"...oh Ray." Ryan began as his laughter subsided, closing his book with the bookmark in place and set it on the nightstand beside him. "...I knew it was you who shot me." 

"...what. How did you know?!" 

"...a general rule of thumb, snipers don't get to be called snipers because they miss shots. They either aim purposefully or they don't aim at all. Why would a sniper fire in two harmless places unless he didn't actually want to kill me? Also, you were using the pink bullets I bought you." An eyebrow arched as he smirked and sure enough, Ray felt his chest tighten again, that blush forming over his features again. "...I didn't think to put on my face paint that day, forgot about it when we rushed out the door...and I took my mask off during the raid because I needed all my eyesight had to offer. I didn't want to leave everyone else without a second form of cover. We shouldn't rely on you all the time." His hand reached to pat the spot beside him, offering to share the bed with the younger man as they talked. "Though now, I have to ask...what made you choose to simply wound me rather than kill me, if you really didn't recognize me?" 

Ray moved forward, smiling until that last question was asked and his face light up with even more color, his voice catching in his throat. He didn't want to answer but after all they had been through, he felt he owed the man. "...don't laugh." He sighed, then leaned back in the bed, folding his hands on his lower stomach as he pouted. "...I thought the guy I saw was pretty damn hot." 

Another soft laugh and Ryan reached over him to retrieve his book, settling beside the sniper with a content little smile. He returned to the spot he had left off at, nodding slowly, before he began to read. Not silently, no, instead he was reading aloud-voice clear and calm, as though the previous conversation had never even happened. Watching from the corner of his eye as Ray turned and got comfortable, closing his eyes to listen to the story. He couldn't help but notice as the Hispanic's breath began to hitch and the sobs started anew, breaking down as he felt the relief wash over him. He stumbled over his words once as he read, biting back the emotion to comfort his friend and tell him it was all okay. He knew when people needed just to let out a good cry and be done with it. Let all of those built up emotions spring free and work themselves out.

As he paused to turn the third page in his audible reading, he could hear soft snores bubbling up beside him. Quieting down, he glanced over at the now sleeping kid, tears falling from Ray's cheeks still as he pressed his face into the pillow and slumbered. Ryan reached out, gently stroking away the wetness with his thumb and brushed those fingers through the hair that had been tussled. "...I'll be fine Ray, I promise. You protected us...one way or another and that's all that matters."


	2. Such a dad (Ryan and Gavin)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan picks up a sick Gavin and helps nurse him back to health.

It was two-thirty AM when Ryan awoke, grunting tiredly and pulling off his sheets to swing his legs out and crawl out of the bed. He was exhausted, having taken the next twenty-four hours off from any heists due to his decreased attentiveness. No good going into dangerous situations if he was so tired he could barely keep his eyes open. Geoff had agreed on that part and left the killer to his own devices, letting him trail home to his house and shut the world out the moment he crashed into that Tempurpedic he loved so much. That was downright his second favorite purchase he ever made, his first being the mask that lay on his nightstand now. As he got to his feet and made his way over to the door to his room, he was suddenly struck with a memory of something. He had intended when he felt rested enough to be up and about, to take some of his "vacation" hours to clean his one shotgun. Though now in the forefront of his mind, he was reminded that he had left the particular weapon sitting on the table at the hideout. 

Typical, he couldn't catch a break when it came to some of his foolish mistakes. He sighed, resigning himself to have to travel out there and retrieve it, deeming he had nothing better to do. He used the bathroom, got dressed, choosing to forego his usual getup of a leather jacket and instead pulled on a spare hoodie he had hanging about. A hat over his loosely ponytailed hair and he was pulling his keys off his counter, heading for the garage attached to his house. Once inside his car, he was speeding off down the road and towards the opposite side of the city, passing through the large looming buildings without so much of a second thought. It wasn't a suped up enough hot rod that he could get there in minutes. No instead, it was something more low key and manageable. A Honda Odyssey of all things. Room for friends and family, an entertainment system and even a vacuum for when he dropped chips in his seat again. The cool gray exterior made him a near ghost in the night. 

As he started to turn left off San Andreas Avenue and onto Vespucci Boulevard, he caught sight of a person that looked...oddly familiar. He slowed the car down, eyes narrowing as he pulled off onto the side of the road and glanced back over his shoulder before backing the car up. Sure enough, walking the white lined street with his arms tightly crossed over his chest was none other than Gavin. The man almost didn't recognize him due to his signature aviators being on the top of his head rather that on his face. When Ryan stopped the car close and moved to get out, he noticed the younger man didn't even look up at him and acknowledge his presence. He tried calling out but also got no response. Another yell, much louder and he jogged over to yank the boy back by the shoulder. 

When Gavin turned around, it was evident why he hadn't heard him call. The brit's face was flushed and his eyes were watering, his nose dripping and his whole body shivering as he stood there. It took the Vagabond all but a minute before he was tugging the barely protesting young man into the passenger side of his car. Once sitting down, he reached over him, buckling him in safely and closing the door, making his way over to the other side to start driving again. Gavin was settling somewhat, thankful for the heated seats and the soon to be blasting warm air that his new escort turned on for him. 

"...how'd you end up on the side of the road like that?" He was asked after a while of silence, the car having turned around and was making it's way back to Ryan's house rather than the hideout itself. "Weren't you supposed to be-" 

He was interrupted by a coughing fit and he cringed at the sounds coming with it. He could practically hear all of the gunk inside of the poor sickly companion rising up and settling again. 

"...Micool told me to go home..." Followed the voice, the barely audible words that came out like a pitiful child's voice asking for help in finding his mother. It wouldn't be known to Ryan just yet but Gavin didn't actually recognize him...rather he was so far lost in his fever that he was just fine with talking to a supposed "stranger" about his issue. "...he said m'no good if m'sick...kept....coughing...and too loud...said everyone would hear us...so he dropped me off at my 'partment...said go to bed...and I tried to get in...but I couldn't remember nothin about my code to get in...and so I was going to walk to our place." 

Oh that made Ryan's heart drop. Gavin had been heading in the opposite direction of the hideout, surely going to wind up absolutely lost and no doubt mugged or stabbed for all he was worth. If the man hadn't left his gun there, he would've never had shown up in time to save the poor kid from this fate. He sighed a bit in relief, thankful for once for all the mistakes he has ever made. They clearly had a purpose. Not that he was about to start thanking a deity for assistance. 

"Well...you can come stay at my place until we can get you sensible...or...as much sense as you had before." 

"...thanks mate, you're awful nice...don't take my kidneys or anything, okay?"

He wasn't going to question that and let the boy rest back into the seat without another word, sighing when he spotted his house in the distance. Once back inside his garage, he hesitated before leaving the brit still buckled in the warm seat and going to first find something to help keep him warm. He settled with a small blanket, pulling it off the back of his couch as he returned and helped his normally jovial friend from the car. It took some extra care to get him inside, Gavin often tripping over nothing as he walked and leaning a little too heavily on Ryan for them to move smoothly but they managed. Once now settled on the couch, it was a mission to find proper medicine to help him through it. 

It didn't take long for Ryan to collect an assortment of tools on the coffee table in front of them. Cold medicine, a heating pad, a nice hot bowl of chicken noodle soup, crackers and a fresh box of tissues were just the tip of the iceberg. He himself was now seated next to the boy, hand stroking through the short unkempt hair as he waited for the thermometer in his ear to beep and he could view the numbers. 'Too high', was all he muttered, frowning and popping off the cap into the trashcan nearby, setting the machine aside. From what he could tell, Gavin had caught a cold but along with it had come an ear infection. It was going to be a rough night for the both of them at this rate and he did his best to try and keep the coughing and gagging man calm. Hours passed with children's movies on pay per view, Disney classics and a few from Pixar and Dreamworks. In that time frame, Gavin had thrown up three times and gone through 2 boxes of tissues, barely ate and was otherwise glued to Ryan's side as he snuggled into the warmth. 

When he awoke for the eighteenth time to sneeze and cough, Gavin didn't make it to the trashcan in time and wound up covering himself and part of the couch in vomit. The sight and feel of which just seemed to agitate his easily disgusted brain more and he was fighting all urges to let loose again, coughing in alarm when his eyes were shielded from the horrific sight. 

"Easy Gavin, come on, it's not that bad, we can get you cleaned up in no time." Ryan stood calmly, waiting for the brit to follow him when he urged but it was clear he wasn't able to handle that either. With a sigh, the ever ferocious and notorious villain of Los Santos was dipping down to scoop the brit into his arms and carry him to the bathroom. Dirty clothes cast aside and the still coughing and gagging naked man was being held up in the shower to be rinsed off. He made complaints about being cold but they were drowned out with the blasting of water. 

Shortly after making sure the tub was clean, Ryan was filling it with hot water, leaving Gavin to sit on the damp carpet while he cleaned up the other messes, grabbing some fresh clothes from his own closet and returning to his side. 

"M'sorry...didn't mean to." 

"Not your fault. Here, let's get you into the bath, going to feel a lot nicer to be completely clean and warm, won't it?"

Ryan wound up knelt beside the tub and helping the man bathe when he received the phone call. Putting his phone on his shoulder after he answered, he kept it pressed to his ear and moved his hands quickly but gently, gaze occasionally flicking to the brit's face to make sure he was still conscious. 

"Vagabond." He answered in a low tone, not at all happy with the explosion he knew was about to hit his eardrum. He saw Gavin blink over at him curiously and smiled back-until sure enough, bam, just as Michael was trained to do, everything was blowing up. 

"RYAN, MAN YOU GOTTA HELP US. I left Gavin at his apartment but when we got back and I went to check on him, he wasn't fucking there! He could be anywhere, he said he wasn't feeling good and I told him to go sit his ass down and take a Nyquil and I know I dropped him off at his door but he's not fucking there, he probably went somewhere to get piss drunk and he's too fucking stupid to realize he's not fit to go out-" 

"Michael." Ryan sighed, interrupting the rant with a more so stern voice than he intended. He caught the squeak before the silence followed and after rolling his eyes a bit, he spoke again, "Gavin is fine. He's at my place." 

"...oh....well shit and here we were about to use Jack's helicopter to-"

"I can drop him off later. Don't worry about it." 

"Oh-well fine but you tell that asshole to-" 

He was hung up on before he could get any further insults out and the Vagabond was tossing aside his phone with a bit of agitation. Maybe it was the protective father like personality within him but he didn't want anyone, especially Michael, making comments like that. They had ditched the brit in his hour of need and who was it that had come to his rescue, him, not them. He paused, looking up at Gavin's face and noticing that he had indeed been stared at for the entire phone call. "What?...everything alright?...did the water get cold?" He dipped his hand into it, testing it and frowned when it was cooler than expected, going to drain it somewhat and refill it with hotter water.

He froze when he felt a hand on his cheek, blinking as Gavin smiled brightly, almost giggling furiously before drawing it back. "Ryan..." He said in a rather serious tone, as if he was about to ask something die and the Vagabond was putting his entire focus on him. "...you're like some kind of dad." 

A loud snort escaped him before he could stop it, hand moving to cover his own mouth as he fought back the urge to burst into laughter. "Is that supposed to be a compliment?" 

 

"Gavvy!" Michael ran out of the hideout, slamming the door behind him as he opened up his arms and yanked the scrawnier man into a bear hug. Gavin barely got to shout out his own "Micool!" of a response before he was nearly crushed and flailed his arms about comically. Behind him, Ryan was pulling out of his driver's seat, hand coming up to push the door back down. 

He smiled a little as he walked past the two younger men, pulling off his mask and rubbing at the base of his face paint where it itched a little. As he entered into the main building, he caught sight of Ray at the table just inside and there, across the top was his shotgun. He sighed softly, walking over and ran his hand across the barrel. He blinked in surprise however, when he found that it was recently cleaned, his attention going over the details curiously. Ray looked up at him, setting down his 3ds as he smiled and shrugged. 

"Gav called me this morning while you were asleep, said you needed some help cleaning it."


	3. Trouble (Michael and Gavin)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael and Gavin have ways of getting out of trouble

"Alright you two, we've been trying to get your punk asses for years and finally, here you are. So let me be frank, we're not going to go remotely good cop, bad cop on you...it's going to be all bad cop and nothing else. Got it?" The man scowled, slamming his hand down on the table as he peered over the two young men across from him. 

Michael and Gavin, two members of the most infamous gang in Los Santos. The demolition expert and the supposed secondary brains of the operation. The two looked nothing like their reputation preceded them. The chief inspector had heard all the rumors of course. That Michael was a man that towered over others and had eyes red like a demon's. That his voice would echo into the night like a bear's roar and his hands could manipulate flames like that of a piano's notes. Gavin was supposedly a smart mouthed kid who had all of the world at his fingertips, able to recall any fact or figure that lay within some form of digital holding cell and supposedly...landed a titan on a mountain with ease. When he was in battle, he was flanked by five other demonic forces, too fierce for him to be ever hurt. 

What the inspector now had strapped tightly to the chairs and double handcuffed, was two late-twenties fresh out of college looking kids. He noted that Michael had brown eyes and though he was loud when he spoke, he was nothing special. The freckles on his face and pair of glasses just seemed to subtract more from his age. The most impressive thing about him had to have been the expensive leather jacket he wore with his crew's obvious logo on the front. Gavin was...an open mouthed idiot for lack of a better term. British accent and gangly appearance, hair like he had just woken up and it took all of the police force just to take his ridiculous looking aviator's off. 

When the two had been captured, it had almost seemed easy. Michael was caught off guard and backed into a corner, guns at his throat and Gavin....Gavin just ran right into the line of fire to be with his "boy". They were hauled into the police station and locked in separate cells until it came time to finally interrogate them about their gang...and then they refused to be questioned apart. Quiet as can be until they were once again placed together and thoroughly trapped with all of the containment devices they could manage in the room. Now the inspector had trouble shutting them up to get his points across. 

"Did you hear that Micool? His name is Frank. I don't know anyone named Frank, do you? It's such an odd name. I know someone named Martin, Lucas, Benjamin but no one named Frank!" Gavin spoke up, his eyes blinking wide and curious at his companion beside him. Hands shuffled noisily with the small chains and he grinned, as though this conversation was the best thing to ever happen to him. 

Michael just rolled his eyes, sighing and looking to the inspector as though he was communicating that he had to deal with this all the time. A shake of his head and he turned his gaze back to the brit, opening not to properly correct him...but instead grin back and play along.

"Gavvy, please, his name isn't Frank...he wants to be Frank but he's not Frank, that's why he said "let me be Frank". I don't think he's earned that priviledge with us yet. I'd only give my good friends nicknames. Though that is a shitty nickname." 

"Can I call you Bruce? You look like a Bruce." 

The officer was just rolling his eyes now too, fingers moving to rub at his temples as he resisted the urge to slam his head down on the table surface between them. He was half tempted to also take a break and call his wife, beg for her to retrieve some alcohol as she came home from her job and have it waiting for him when he would end his shift. This was going to be one hell of a case. 

"My name is Richard, you can call me Mr.-"

"I always knew you were a dick." 

"Shut up, both of you! You have five minutes, five minutes before we lock you guys up without any negotiating! You want to survive in prison without a man twice your size using you as a bitch, I suggest you start talking. Where is your hideout, the location of your members, your stashes, anything and I just might give a damn long enough to help you earn a 5 day less sentence." 

Gavin perked up instantly, smiling brightly and nodded furiously as he let out excited noises of "ooo" repeatedly, followed by a "pick me!" and Richard was groaning all the more at the no doubt not serious answer he was about to receive. With a half hearted wave, he motioned for the brit to speak, putting his face in his free hand otherwise. 

"Geoff has a stache! It's been right under his nose the whole time! Easy to spot, you'll love it. It curls up all fancy like those people in barbershop quartets!" 

"Gavin, you forgot to tell him about our hideouts too. Sometimes on sunny days, we'll all head to the park and Geoff will be it and the rest of us will go find hiding places. I've hidden in a tree, by the dumpster, under the bleaches..." 

"And I can definitely tell you that all of our members are in Los Santos." 

"Oh fuck yeah, they are definitely there."

"I give up, go rot in a cell." The two young men grinned in unison as they watched the inspector move from his seat and wrench the door open, gesturing back at them with a fierce jab of his thumb. Richard shot a glare at the nearest guard in the entrance, huffing. "Get them the fuck out of my sight. Now." 

"Yes sir." Came the reply and the cop pulled away from the wall he was leaning on to watch the man head back for his office. A small smile crossed his lips as he walked into the interrogation room, hands moving to unlatch the handcuffs and in seconds, Michael was free. A strike to the skull and the officer was crashed to the floor, nearly upturning the table as Gavin was freed next. The two kicked off their leg restraints, never properly latched to begin with before they were barreling down the hallway. Michael made it out first, sliding across the hood of the car closest to the door and into the driver's seat before the key was in the ignition and Gavin in the passenger seat. Just as they heard the call for the alarm, they sped off down the road turned off into a specific patch of land, molded over to hide a car from view. 

They waited in silence, killing the engine as they heard the sirens blaze past down the road behind them and after abandoning the car in an obvious spot, they made their way back into the tunnel and down the manhole cover marked with a unique business symbol. No one could easily tell it was a code for their safe rail, dropped down inside and bursting into laughter now that it would be muffled and them hidden from view. 

"We're free, boy! We're free yet again!" 

"Aw man, I am seriously hungry now. Let's get home." 

 

"Gavin, here." A hand placed the aviator's back in place on the brit's head, earning a squawk of delight mid-bite of the pizza slice in his grasp. That earned a smile from Ryan as he moved to sit down across from them, adjusting the uniform's collar until he was unbuttoning it and leaving the shirt open. 

"Thanks Ry. You think they're ever going to realize you're one of us?" 

"Nah, though if Michael keeps hitting me that hard, I may forget it myself."


	4. Expectations (Jeremy and Ray)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy is feeling pressured and then he winds up meeting up with the person least likely to judge him for his position

"Oh...well this is awkward." Jeremy froze where he stood on the rooftop, staring ahead of him at the hooded young man who was already crouched in a sniper position. The hispanic jolted out of his skin, eyes wide as he quickly snapped his attention to the fumbling gang member. He was quickly getting to his feet, patting himself down until he managed to brandish a pocket knife, just as Jeremy had unclipped his machete from his belt. They stood there, both in a defensive position, waiting for the other one to move. 

"...alright, I'll bite-what crew do you work for?" The opposing man asked, his tone coming out in a way that said he didn't really care to know but probably didn't want to make any enemies regardless. 

"You first." 

"Really?" 

"Really." 

"...freelance. I've been hired by the guys robbing that convenience store down there." He jerked his head in the direction of the store, not keeping his eyes off Jeremy. 

"Fake AH Crew." Came the purple jacketed man's response and he watched as the hoodied boy quickly relaxed his stance. 

"No fooling? Really? You work for AH? Damn! I would never kill one of you, no worries." He was pocketing his knife quickly, going to move back into his sniper position on his stomach, chuckling a bit. "heh, needed a new sniper right? So what's your name?" 

"Uh..." Jeremy hesitated, not relaxing just yet, staring a bit bewildered by the reaction to his crew's name but he eventually shrugged it off, assuming that he was a few times hire. Geoff occasionally needed freelancers after all. "...I go by JDoolz..." He hitched his rifle back up into his arms, moving forward and taking a spot a few feet to the left of the Hispanic, crouching down slowly and lining up the exact spot with his scope. He could see Gavin in the distance with it, approaching fast in the helicopter with Jack. 

"Nice, name's Ray." 

That wasn't a codename, Jeremy took note of. That had to have been the guy's real name. Very unusual in this line of business. Normally you took your street name with face value, using it wherever you encountered more of the usual stuff. The Bostonian brushed it off though and finally crouched down onto his stomach, putting his eye back to the scope. It was quite the awkward silence between them, until the buzzing of a robbery by the store could be heard. 

"Aw man, they tripped the alarm. Amateurs." 

"That's going to cause us problems, especially if the cops get here faster." Ray just chuckled as Jeremy went to radio over to Geoff about the situation, listening to the loud cussing protests of the boss. 

"Don't worry about it, if I know the Fake AH Crew, it'll just wind up being more fun." 

More awkward silence until Ray began to shoot, taking out phones in panicked people's hands, killing the store clerk as he brandished his own self defense weapon. Jeremy couldn't help but view it all in progress, his mouth popping open into a surprised silent gasp each time the boy landed his shot perfectly. 

"...whoa...you're amazing."

"Years of practice. How long have you been sniping?" 

"...not long, honestly. Little bit nervous about doing this for jobs. Don't want to disappoint. Especially with the expectations riding my ass." 

"oh?" Ray pulled his head back, letting the chaos explode down below and he leaned on his palm, studying the man beside him. Jeremy nodded slowly, sighing and then sitting back, he wrenched his headset off his ear. 

"Okay, sniper to sniper rant here-sorry but Fake AH Crew apparently used to have this holier than thou sniper guy working for them. All I ever hear about him is praises! Everyone talks about him! You've heard of the Brownman right?" He glanced over at Ray who just nodded slowly. "The A-Team, the B-Team-hell, even the mailman who delivers my mail talks about him! There's still comments about him on the news you know?! "oh looks like Fake AH Crew's famous sniper is nowhere to be seen, what a great day for the police force"...and it's just...overwhelming? Yeah fucking overwhelming! So many people are looking at me now like I gotta fill the guy's shoes and it's just...I'M NOT HIM!...I'd...just like to be recognized for who I am and what I can do...not for someone who I'm not and never will be." He sighed heavily, leaning on his hands rubbing his face. "...how am I supposed to make my mark if no one even gives me a chance..."

He reached for his headset, going to pull it back on with a frown and move back into position. "...sorry, we just met and here I am releasing all of my shit out into the open like you're Dr.Phil." 

"Nah, I rather be Steve Wilkos." 

That earned a chuckle out of the novice sniper, nodding slowly. "Fair. You can be Steve." 

Ray glanced out over the area, seeing his gang he had been working for was long cleared out and he shrugged a bit, going to turn his attention back to where the Fake AH Crew was getting into place. He spoke, slow, like he was unsure of his voice. "...but...you know, not to sound like an old man or anything but...one of the greatest things I ever learned over the years is that..." He paused, tapping fingers on his rifle. "...it's okay to make mistakes. I mean yeah sure, I rarely make them now but I wasn't always like this you know. It took time and practice and I remember...my old boss telling me that...the biggest regret he'd ever have with me is losing me. I kept that in mind all those years...and...it taught me not to look down on myself, because I was worth something to someone, even if no one else saw it." 

"...wish someone would say that to me." 

"...you never know." The Hispanic was moving to stand, gathering up his stuff and grunted. "Hey JDoolz, if I see you again, let's be sniper buddies."

"Sure thing-sorry again for vomiting my feelings on you." 

"Nah, just stop worrying about it." 

 

"Nice job everyone-look at this haul! This is the most we've had in weeks! Congratulations to our amazing pilot, Jack. Our brilliant distraction, Michael." The two mentioned let out cheers as Geoff proudly announced their conquest in the parked helicopter, nestled on the rooftop of their base. "Shout out to Ryan and myself for getting that money out of there faster than Sonic the hedgehog." 

"Wow that reference isn't dated or anything." 

"Shut up. Gavin, nice job with the safe and not killing us all and let's not forget Jeremy who managed to take out six of the cops on our asses!" More cheers and Gavin was reaching over to gently pat Jeremy on the arm. The young sniper didn't look up however, groaning with frustration. 

"...yeah...six cops out of twenty. I missed over fourteen shots!" 

"Ah don't sweat it, Gavin and I miss all the time." Michael muttered, cracking open his beer as he sat back and glanced over at the sniper, studying his face. "Dude, you've been a fucking depressing shit all day, what's going on?"

"...just a lot on my mind." 

"Awww is my little Jeremy feeling down?" Jack called out, chuckling. 

"...oh hey that reminds me," Geoff piped up, shaking off his hands and wiping his mustache. He reached into one of his pockets, pulling out a set of keys and fumbling with one, eventually getting it off and offering it out to Jeremy. 

"...what's this?"

"Old training room for sniping." 

"Oh...thanks, I guess. " Moving to get up, the young man plucked up his gun and heaved it onto his back, going to head down to the room marked on the key, ignoring anyone calling after him. He went down three floors, underground to the shooting range, heading for the backroom that was normally unused. He reached for the door, unlocking it and quickly shutting it behind him to block out the rest of the world. Sighing as he leaned on the door, he reached out to flip on the switch and illuminated the entire set up. Contraptions and hidden markers laid about to practice accuracy and one table for setup. He crossed over to it, going to set his gun down and clean off the dusty top, pausing only when he saw a frame face down in the mess. 

For a moment, he almost threw it away instantly. Assuming it was another picture of Geoff that Michael had laying around but his curiosity got the better of him and he glanced to the image. The Fake AH Crew, standing in front of a burning crashed helicopter on the beach, bruises and blood smeared on their faces. Ryan was standing in the back with an intimidating look, Geoff with his arms wrapped around Jack as the two laughed and in the front was Michael, Gavin and...he froze. Blinking, staring at the picture in shock...as Ray stared back at him. 

"...you got to be fucking kidding me." He muttered. 

"Nope, that's our Brownman." 

Jeremy jumped out of his skin as Geoff entered the room and called out to him, whirling around to face him with the slightest blush on his face. 

"...and Ray said you needed me to talk to you, something about our new sniper kid thinking he had to be something he's not..." The older man waited, watching Jeremy's expression fall flat and the kid he had just recently adopted started to tear up. He reached out, going to pull him into a hug. "Let me tell you the same thing I told Ray, years ago...the only regret, I'd have with any of you...is losing you. I don't care how many times you fuck up. It may get on my nerves but all that matters is that when we go home...we all go home, okay? Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."


	5. Strength (Raywood)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt Request: "Can you do a Raywood where Ryan is forced to interrogate a guy with Ray, and it turns out Ray knows alot more stuff about torture than him?"
> 
> Thanks for the request~ Sorry if this...wasn't exactly what you were looking for...I think I picked the wrong time to write this because I was in a fluff mood. I can always give it another shot in the future.

Ryan had quite the reputation in this city. He was the most feared man in the whole tri-state to be exact. He was the Vagabond, the monster that roamed the alleys at night and sliced the throats of those who crossed his path. He was a black cat, a sign of bad luck...or as Ray frequently called him, an absol. Some sort of pokemon that appeared wherever there was disaster. Ryan didn't really understand it but he wasn't about to complain so long as he got attention from his favorite crew member. That reputation however was something that was often used by everyone else to their advantage. The name was synonymous with the mask, the black realistic skull that would step out of the shadows and black jacket that closed tightly over his muscles. He was forever quiet and moved quickly, killing too often with his bare hands rather than any weapon. He was the bouncer.  


Geoff needed to go make a deal, he was there in the shadows. One false move and he was there, practically growling as he stared down the culprit with his ice blue eyes. Gavin and Michael on a heist, he was ready with a rocket launcher, prepared to destroy the incoming cops. Jack needed someone to jump out of a helicopter and take out a legion of people in one go, he was the "bomb" for lack of a better term. Jeremy and Ray were sniping from a rooftop and he was there watching their backs and taking out anyone who dared to get too close. He was a guard dog, a silent and imposing guard dog that just made his own throaty growl when he was agitated all the more realistic. 

Underneath the skull mask and intimidatingly muscled stature however, there was a momma's boy raised in the South. He spoke with an accent, drawled his words and arguably showed confusion with some of the more city-like attributes of Los Santos. He was one to hold open the door for his crew members and made sure everyone got a fair share of dinner before bedtime. He'd go out of his way to drive them to McDonald's if need be. He was caught a few times in an apron in the kitchen, humming to himself as he made buttermilk biscuits from a recipe passed down in his family. It was quite the opposite of his reputation but Geoff all too often pushed it to the back of his mind. He assumed that Ryan and the Vagabond were basically two different people and when he needed the Vagabond, he could just call him up at any point and time. 

Ryan was loyal to a fault and as a result, when his boss asked him to do something...he'd agree to it whole-heartedly. Even if he was nervous and unsure of how exactly to go about it. Such a case happened just the other day when they caught someone in their crew doing something a little too suspicious. Fear rose quickly through the ranks that the boy, a new hire, was a spy for another crew and when he couldn't look the boss in the eyes and deny it-he was ordered confined. Geoff approached Ryan shortly after, calling him over and telling him he'd need to get the information out of the kid. 

At first, the apron clad man was dumbfounded, pausing his licking his icing laced fingers to give the mustache'd drunkard a tilt of the head. 

"...information?" 

"Yeah, interrogate him. Torture him. Break his bones until he talks. I want to know who the fuck he works for and why he thought his little punk ass could get away with betraying the Fake AH Crew. Don't hold back. Make him cry. I'm not here to make friends. I got six of them already and that works for me." 

"Er....yes sir." 

Geoff studied his expression for a long hard moment, huffing slightly and then glanced over at the young Puerto Rican who was propped up on the table in the kitchen. No doubt waiting to sample some of the baked goods, Ray was once more nose deep in his 3DS-playing Smash Bros from the sound of it. 

"Ray!" 

"Yo." 

"You help Ryan." 

"Gotcha." 

Ryan nearly spit everywhere in surprise, hand reaching out after Geoff as the man left the kitchen. "But sir-Ray-" He was gone before he could get his full sentence out and he scowled slightly. He didn't want to drag the kid along with him. He adored Ray but there was a few things that all too often made him cringe when the young man was with them. He thought of him as almost innocent. Untouched by the real cruelty of the world like the rest of them were. The most tragic thing to have ever happened to the kid was never meeting his father. Whereas the other crew members had tales of abuse, watching their parents be murdered before their very eyes, starving on the back end streets of alleys as they cried for hours over how much their lives had been ruined. Ray was...pure china compared to all of that. Still in tact on a shelf for display. 

Though when he looked back to the young man who was smiling at him-he couldn't help but smile back. Maybe he could get the target to talk without a show of force. He paused, glancing at the cupcake containers in his hands...maybe he could just offer him a baked good. 

Ryan wound up dressing down for the event. He didn't take his skull mask, he didn't wear a leather jacket...he wore his mom jeans, a tight black t-shirt, pulled his long blonde hair back in a ponytail and toned down his typical face paint. Not the vibrant red, white, and black but a simple halloween style skull paint. He blinked his eyes a few times-adjusting to his contacts that he put in so he wouldn't have any issues that his glasses would've provided. He was driving one of his sports cars, taking it slow despite the speeds the vehicle could manage and he was glancing nervously at the kid beside him. He was taking his time, nervously tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. Music was playing lightly, some song he never heard before...a Taylor Swift song. She was crying about some boyfriend. 

Ray was not wearing his seat belt, something he only did when Ryan was driving. The first week when the boy had to hitch a ride, he was tightly wrapped up in the passenger seat with his hands clutching the belt like his life depended on it. After a few rides and the kid was slowly relaxing, propping his feet up on the dashboard or rolling down the window to stick his toes out. He'd kick off his shoes and wait for the moment when they'd make a corner or come to a red light and watch in amusement as Ryan would reach out protectively to keep him from flying forward. 

By the time they made it to the warehouse where the crew did their dirty work to avoid "disturbing the neighbors", Ray was laughing audibly at the nervous fidgeting of the man driving. 

"...you never tortured anyone before, have you?" He asked as they exited the vehicle and closed the door behind him. He tucked his DS in his pocket, stuffing his hands in his hoodie after adjusting his beanie. He followed Ryan to the trunk of the car, watching the man open it and pull out the tied up-knocked out-good for nothing he was due to torment. He watched him heaved onto his shoulder, the two moving into the building and locking the warehouse door. The room that was designated for them was windowless, a single light hanging from the ceiling and a table in the corner. The walls were a grayish stone and the flooring that was marble in appearance but nothing more than extra stone. 

Ryan hesitated as he set down the person in the only chair provided, going to intertwine the ropes with the backing. He added a pair of handcuffs just in case, going to do the same with the kid's ankles. He frowned as he stood back, shaking his head slightly as he glanced back at Ray. "...I can't say it's a hobby." He muttered as he watched his companion climb up onto the table. He moved over to the table as well and leaned beside him, heaving a low heavy sigh. "...protecting comes easy to me...this...this is a whole other matter. It's like being a tennis player on a baseball team." He earned a chuckle, smiling a bit at that, relaxing somewhat. "...I don't know where to begin."

"...want me to start you off?" 

Now that made Ryan pause, looking at Ray with such disbelief-earning more of a grin. "...what do you mean, start me off?" 

 

The Vagabond learned two things very quickly. 

One, Ray had one hell of a right hook. The young man had stirred the target from his forced slumber and asked a brief question. Something so simple that had the kid in the chair just letting out a nervous laugh before the fist connected with his jaw. The resounding crack had Ryan cringing, the kid crying out in pain, and Ray was bursting into his own fit of laughter. A high pitched "HA!" as he grabbed hold of the shirt to steady his target. The smile that traced across his lips was more demented than Ryan could ever feign to be.  
It was natural. 

It was pure, natural, joy over the pain he saw in the kid's face. He asked the question again, waiting for him to stop reeling before he asked harder, fiercer, shaking him slightly to jar him more into his senses. When he didn't answer fast enough, he was struck again. Blood spurted out as he bit his lip in the process and Ray was backing off again, rubbing his sore knuckles. A pained groan escaped the kid who the Hispanic had now taken to calling "Butch" as a demeaning nickname and blood was now dripping along the curve of his swollen lip and down his neck. Two more punches in succession and it was clear that Butch was on the verge of passing out, so Ray was backing off once more. Going to rest near Ryan as he examined his knuckles, clearly not used to using them in such a manner. He smirked over at his shocked companion, showing off the soon forming bruises with a sense of pride, before he was speaking-slow and soft, 

"What's with that look? Didn't think I had it in me?"

That's when Ryan learned the second thing...and it wasn't something he was ever expecting to hear. Ray had been the muscle before he came along. That sounded ridiculous on paper and even coming out of the kid's mouth but it was becoming more true by the second. What Ray lacked in general physique he made up with knowing how to use what muscles he had. He was fast and he was smart, accurate and judging by how he aimed each blow-he had a basic knowledge of how the human body was set up. He targeted areas that caused throbbing pains but didn't do much damage overall. He had tricks up his sleeve and was prepared to highlight them as he drew his 3DS from his pocket again. Not going to play it this time but rather instead, retrieved the stylus from the container and with a flick of his finger, extend the small device. The tip had been sharpened from what Ryan could see and was now a makeshift knife for a possible back alley confrontation late at night. The way he walked was intimidating, a stride that said he was utterly calm and in control of his surroundings. He closed the distance between him and Butch again, touched his bloody face like a mother would stroke a child's cheek. Told him how he was doing great and his crew would be proud of him if they were watching. Then as he slipped behind the kid to where he couldn't see and held his jaw tight to force him to stare ahead, he whispered...

Told the kid he'd be glad to set up a live video feed...right before he punctured the earlobe closest to his free hand with the stylus. The pain was clearly unexpected, enough that the scream that followed was high pitched with confusion and even Ryan was forcing himself to look away. The older man closed his eyes tight as the screams were broken apart by more strikes to the kid's face, a few kicks to the gut and the clanging of the chair as it crashed back against the floor. He peeked his one eye open when he heard nothing more, seeing that Ray had managed to knock out Butch cold and was not backing up and away from the kid. He stopped when he made it to the door, casting a glance at Ryan with a gaze that almost seemed...shocked by his own behavior. A quick breath and he was racing out of the room and building, ignoring the calls from Ryan who was now concerned for his well-being. 

Ray didn't return for at least an hour...

Which left Ryan to wait just outside of the room, lounging with his head rested back against the wall and one leg up, the other stretched out. He had fallen asleep at the forty minute mark, lost in his thoughts as he questioned what transpired between the three of them. He was trying to keep an ear out for the noise of the chair just inside the propped door but his nerves were quickly taking hold of him in exhaustion. He was disturbed out of his slumber not too long after when Ray slid down the wall beside him to the concrete, a starbucks coffee in his grasp. When Ryan jolted awake, he handed over the coffee with an awkward smile and the older man was muttering a soft thank you as he took a sip from it. 

"...so..." He muttered after a few minutes of silence, lowering his cup from his lips. "...you're...really...good at this." 

Ray snorted loudly, hand going to cover his mouth and muffle his laughter then he held up both to shake them in a comical manner. "...yeah...dealt with a lot of shit growing up, you know?" He sighed, hand moving up to pull back his beanie and gently scratch through his dark hair. "...Geoff knew when he picked me up. Knew...I wasn't...going to adjust to being...friendly and bullshit with the rest of the assholes in the crew...said he was going to start me off doing something...I should be more comfortable with." He gestured with his thumb to the interrogation room. "...he was right...but...after a while, you get lonely...and...you start wondering what it'd be like to have more than that..." 

"...so...you stopped?" 

"Yeah, they got a new guy...some guy on the b-team, I can't even remember his damn name. Came in all cocky and he got answers good enough...wasn't as good as me...but he left a longer lasting impression, you know? ...I don't...like leaving marks that....stay visible..." The young man gestured to his own face and Ryan caught the small movement around his eye-indicating a black eye of all things and he frowned. 

"...yeah, I can see why...so..." Ryan scowled, groaning as he drew his hand up to rub at his face and shook it slowly. "...fuck, sorry Ray but this...this is messed up even for me...I mean...I don't...see people for this long! I shoot, I stab, I break a neck, and then I leave! ...I don't...hang around and add to it...I don't...know how to tell Geoff I can't do this-I kind of think my reputation fakes all of this! I'm...the kind of guy who...sips at a vanilla chai cappucino and feels like he's ready to cry because he doesn't want to go back in there and face the sudden reality that he's a serial killer...that stuff is....surreal...and...I just...you fucking stabbed his ear with a stylus!" His last outburst had Ray laughing, loudly, bursting into fits like this wasn't the most awkward situation to be "shooting the shit" about.

"...don't worry about that...you can sit out here okay? I'll finish it up." 

The memory of Ray's expression before he raced out of the room flashed across the forefront of Ryan's mind and he lowered his cup again. "...are you sure you're okay too? You looked...pretty panicked when you left earlier." 

"Yeah well...I thought I scared you." When Ryan blushed a bit, the kid was smirking at him, reaching to poke his cheek with an amused expression. "You looked so afraid...I just...kind of forgot that...you've never seen me like that...and well...when I'm not good with words, I escape." He sighed, groaning as he pushed himself back onto his feet. "...you're okay though, right Ryan? I mean...I'm...still me." 

"...yeah...yeah Ray." The older man smiled slowly, looking up at him and sighing. "...you're still you. You're the only person on the planet to use mario karts or whatever to intimidate someone." He watched the Hispanic smile at him, before going to push open the door and re-enter the room, leaving Ryan with his thoughts and nothing more as the soundproof room was closed off completely. The man took a deep breath, going to give the final sip to his cup before getting up to toss it away and only when he was mid-throw did he notice words written on the side in sharpie. He scrambled to catch it, managing to knock it across the room and he raced to pick it up.

On the side, written under the name that a barista would call out after making it was very clearly a change in handwriting. One written by a woman and the other by Ray. He smiled slowly, reading the sloppy words over and over until he finally decided to rip apart the paper cup. He preserved the majority of the message and tucked it in his pocket, going to grab some of his weapons to clean while he waited for the whole mess to end...and for them to finally make their way home. 

He owed his Ray a drink.


	6. Silence (Michael)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael's pride is one thing he wants to keep in tact even if everything else breaks. 
> 
> Written on a bus, just a quick thought after having a conversation in ASL with my neighbor.

It was quite common in the business for those who worked dirty jobs to have a myriad of scars and ailments from their time spent out in the field. The Fake AH crew was no different in that aspect. Geoff had numerous tattoos damaged by scars from all sorts of weapons. He had cried the day his favorite one he ever designed was shot through by a bullet that nearly tore his arm apart. Jack had spent all night trying to patch the wound as they waited for their medical team to drive in and consoled him as he sobbed endlessly. His crew had assumed the wound had really fucked him up and Michael was beating him over the head when it was discovered it was just because of the tattoo. 

Gavin had the smallest of scars in the crew, one just on his left cheek where someone with brass knuckles had socked him hard and cut him. He often covered it up with make up to keep up his pristine appearance. Jeremy had one on his leg from a stray bullet, Jack had burns on his back from the time he had been too slow to escape an explosion and Ryan was of course, littered with all sorts of marks. It was often a game that the older man would strip from his clothes and tell the horror stories of how he got each and every one. The only one who seemed to be completely without any scars was Michael and the boy often bragged to the B-team about he was too perfect to be marred. He knew how to do his job and do it well. Only one person truly knew the reality of the situation and Ray was no longer a regular on the crew for him to worry about the secret getting out.  


In reality, Michael had lost a great deal of his hearing from one of his mistakes of the past. When he had just started to learn the ins and outs of the crew and how to handle his signature explosions, he had gotten too close to a detonation without protective gear. One loud bang later and the sniper had found him passed out against a concrete wall. When he had awoken, everything around him was noticeably less clear and he had spent night after night just forcing earbuds to blare music in the hopes it would just go away.  


It didn't.

He knew he should've alerted the crew but the gunner had a sense of pride when it came to Fake AH. He despised being looked down upon and as weak, often starting fights in pub crawls with the boys when men who were taller than him would make wisecracks about his boyish looks. He was an alpha, never a beta or dare an omega. He vowed if Geoff would ever fall that he would fight his way to the top position to keep the crew alive. Next to Ryan, he had the most notorious and vicious reputation for being cruel and powerful. So when someone asked him a question about his health, he would force a smile and lie flat out to protect this pride. 

He had simple ways of disguising the need for auditory help of course. He convinced the crew to learn sign language and claimed it was a way for easier communication in heists instead of talking and giving away their positions when they were just feet from each other. He had Gavin modify his headset so he could adjust the volume and clamp it down tight on his lobe so it wouldn't budge. He was the one who started flare color codes, the one who chose the nightclubs they went to with loud booming speakers so he could feel the beat through vibrations alone, and he was the one who adopted a silent persona much like Ryan when dealing with fellow criminals. He would remain quiet through entire transactions and his reputation of being loud and angry when content only bred the rumor that he was beyond human emotions any more and instilled more fear in everyone he dealt with. 

Geoff had complimented him on the changes and that only made Michael's pride swell more. If there was anyone's attention he wanted specifically, it was always Geoff's. The man was practically his idol. 

The systems he created however were not perfect and it didn't take long for there to be a break in the plan. One heist resulted in them being far apart from each other, flares unrecognizable, and his headset was destroyed in a tussle he was forced into to subdue a guard. Michael was completely out of communication and it had terrified him. It showed in his work, he didn't detonate the bombs at the right moment, shook when he spoke to the tellers as if he was unsure of what he was saying, and jumped at every little movement from his crew when they rushed in to secure the bank. Because of his mistakes, the crew barely made it out with half the money and Gavin had wound up with a new bullet wound in his side-yelling in sharp pain as Jack quickly doctored it in first-aid. 

Michael blamed himself and was certain that all of the crew did too. So when they got back to the base, he was immediately heading for his bedroom, only stopping when he felt Geoff clamp his hand down on his shoulder and drag him back to the couch in the living room. They formed a circle around him, staring down at him as he hung his head low in shame. His pride was destroyed...and he couldn't bare to face them like this. 

Until he saw a hand slap the table before him and he looked up. Geoff smiled at him warmly before his hands were moving. Michael's eyes widened as he read the signs, his heart leaping in his chest. 

_'We're sorry. We couldn't get to you in time to alert you. We tried but we were tied up. If we had known sooner, we would've pulled you out or sent Gavin to help you.'_  
He glanced to the side as Ryan began to sign as well, then Jack, and down the circle in a clockwise motion until everyone had apologized to him. It took him a moment to realize before tears began to well in his eyes and he wiped at them furiously. 

"...how long have you guys known..."

_'Since you first started teaching us sign language. Jack remembered you making a comment about how ASL was too difficult to bother with...and so we were worried about why you suddenly were putting time and effort into learning it. We all took classes to help you with it. Gavin has been trying to install vibrating alerts in all of our equipment around here. He's managed to install one in your bed and the coffee maker. We'll get a few for the other appliances as well.'_

_'Don't be afraid to talk to us, Michael. We're a family before we're a crew.'_

_'We love you.'_

_'And some of us don't want to get shot again.'_ Gavin lowered his hands as a few people shot him a glare for being insensitive but Michael was laughing, continuing to dry his eyes as he sat there and laughed. Before he pulled his hands away, he raised them, giving one sentence before burying his face in his hands. 

_'I'm sorry too.'_


	7. Pain and Comfort (Everyone, casual)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin hates getting stitches but his boys are always looking out for him

Today had been quite the fun adventure for the crew, leaving the local beach a total wreck as they sped through on dune buggies and tried to set fire to sailboats they had purchased in something akin to a viking funeral. Granted, it had been molotovs and not arrows but in Ryan's words it had the same basic concept. They had flipped their vehicles numerous times, getting right back up to continue where they left off with happy cheers and screams. It was a typical Friday night when they had no actual business to attend to.  


They were sore as they nestled back in Geoff's penthouse, Jack going to start making some drinks for them as Geoff and Ryan sank low into the soft couch. Michael was grumbling about his lower back and was searching furiously for the tv remote, Ray was on the floor with his face in the carpet presumably giving up on ever moving again, and Jeremy now found himself partially on the arm of the couch and across the Hispanic's legs. Gavin was the last to join them in the living room, having gone to the bathroom immediately to wrap a crude bandage across his hand. When he finally came into view and sat down on the furthest end of the couch, he was quickly joined by his best friend who was now surfing through the channels in a hurry. 

"Hey Boi, nothing is on except that stupid House Hunters you like to watch-" Michael paused, seeing the bandage out of the corner of his eye and looked to it, frowning. "You get hurt Gavvy?" The moment the words left his mouth, all of the crew was sitting up straight and looking to the smaller lad with slight concern. Getting hurt in their activities were nothing new but when Gavin got hurt, the boy often played it off until he was much worse. 

Sure enough, the Brit shook his head quickly and drew his hand closer to his chest as if he was afraid someone would touch. "Just a scratch, Michael." He insisted, his voice wavering as he spoke. 

"Oh, okay..." Michael was staring at him hard, disbelieving and then nodded his head towards the kitchen. "You should have Jack re-bandage it for you then, you didn't do a great job. Hell you fucking suck at it. Plus, she can give you that stuff that makes it sting less." 

"I'm fine, Michael. Don't need everyone pissing around like I'm some kind of toddler." Gavin was flinching however as Geoff and Ryan stood from their seats. He glanced between the two older men, eyes going wide behind his sunglasses he had yet to take off and before either of them could say a word he was leaping over the back of the couch. He didn't get far, the Vagabond quickly cutting off his escape route to the door and latching onto his arms. He began to kick, squirm, yell as he begged the man to let him go. He wound up pinned to the floor much like he was being arrested and continued to scream as Geoff went for the bandage. 

Jack was walking in with the cups, setting them down for the lads as she sighed at the commotion and waited to hear the words she knew was coming. 

"Jack!" She made her way to the bathroom, going to retrieve their medical kit. "He's going to need stitches." 

Everyone in the penthouse cringed at that. If there was one thing that Gavin was absolutely terrified of it was the very idea of parts of himself being detached. A missing limb, loose skin, the horror of thinking his eyes may one day fall out, it all too often sent the lad into a panic that could barely be contained. He's had to get stitches three times since joining the crew and it's become an event synonymous with holding him down forcefully as he cried and begged for anyone to save him. 

Now Ryan was moving to stand, keeping his hands tight on the boy as he started kicking up a fuss immediately once more. He waited for Geoff to take hold of his legs and the two men were carrying the screaming lad down towards the meeting room in the lower floor. The three lads stood there in a bit of stunned silence, cringing as the yelling cut off with the sound of a door slamming. They watched Jack hurry past them and waited for the door to open again and the cries of "PLEASE DON'T!" followed soon after. 

Michael glanced between Ray and Jeremy, nodding his head in the direction and the three boys were quickly shuffling down the stairs. 

 

"Gavin c'mon, c'mon, take it easy." Geoff was groaning, finally getting his legs pinned against the stair he was partially kneeling on. He watched Ryan take a new position over the lad, putting his own knee on his legs to free Geoff from the station and then press down slightly on his shoulders. He was only using a bit of force to contain the young man due to how strong he was in comparison and it was enough to keep him down, though he was still yelling and cursing at them to let him go. The kingpin moved around his muscle, reaching for the affected hand and pinning down the arm on the table as he fully removed the bandage. "It's going to be over before you even know it." 

He was rewarded with a violent shout and having to move his hand further up the lad's arm as he was bitten at. He glanced at Ryan and the man was rolling his eyes, going to pin Gavin down by his hair next so he would be forced to stare at the glass wall dividing the meeting room into two. He soothed the fingers through the messy hair once, apologizing before making his grip firm again and Jack was quickly moving to start lacing the needle. She moved just out of Gavin's sight, calling to him gently as she sprayed down the wound with antiseptic and he hissed silently. He bit his lip hard, nearly causing it to bleed as tears started to fall down his face and the needle sunk in through his flesh. 

Three stitches in and he was shivering coldly against the table, sobs coming out hard and wheezy. Jack was telling him over and over again that he was doing a great job, that they were one third of the way done but he could barely hear them. He felt like he was going to faint at any moment and realized it might've even been beneficial and debated holding his breath to quicken the process. Just as he was taking a deep breath to do so, he caught sight of a vibrant purple coat in the window and looked to it. The three lads waved back at him from the second meeting room, dorky smiles on their lips as he blinked slowly in confusion.

Ray suddenly formed a hand gun, pointing it at Michael who now had a purse slung over his shoulder and in an instant Michael was feigning to be a scared woman. He held his hands up like he was being robbed and Ray was retrieving the purse, laughing like a super villain before pretending to run away. Jeremy popped up from under the divider, holding his hands like someone playing Godzilla and both Ray and Michael gave him a look. Though they couldn't be heard, Gavin could read their lips as they scolded him-he was supposed to be a cop, not a monster. They continued on with their act however, the purse being juggled between them before they opened it suddenly out of curiosity and found a grenade tucked inside. Jeremy was quick to pass it to Ray who looked utterly dumbfounded before shoving it at Michael and the two lads quickly backed away from the explosive expert. The freckle faced lad studied the device for a moment, then grinned wickedly at the two as he pulled the pin dramatically. They screamed silently, clutching each other but Michael was quickly doubling over in laughter as he revealed the grenade was hollowed out and useless. The gave him middle fingers in resentment, glanced back towards Gavin and waved goodbye quickly before they were bolting out of the room and out of sight. 

The brit blinked after them, his heart starting to quicken again as he remembered where he was and he refocused on the sewing of his hand. He didn't feel anything and sure enough, the grip in his hair was slipping free. He turned his head, blinking up at the gents who smiled at him and gestured to his now fully stitched and bandaged hand.  
"Look see, Gavin? All done, you did great this time around! It's not so bad when you get used to it right?" Jack said, reaching to pet his head as Ryan let the lad up slowly. Before anyone could ask him anything further, Gavin was racing out of the room, slamming the door behind him and back up the stairs. The gents sighed and shrugged at one another, trudging after the young man and once back on the second floor they were greeted with the sounds of cheering. 

Michael had Gavin by the shoulders, Jeremy and Ray on either side of them as they congratulated the brit for getting through the ordeal. They were laughing at the confused expression on his face, putting fingers to their lips as if they had some sort of secret. 

"Didn't cry the whole time, did you boi?" 

"Actually he didn't," Geoff commented, chuckling slightly as he reached to pat the young man on the shoulder proudly. "He did amazing, and for that, he gets to pick out dinner tonight!" He felt the shoulder slip from his grasp and he blinked slightly as Gavin was quickly smothering Michael in a tight hug. "...or you could just eat Michael out, I guess."


End file.
